Do you have three all-time favourite pubs? Back in the 80’s I did, but now I’m not so sure …
I first bought the Good Beer Guide in 1976, and obsessively “ticked-off” pubs in that and subsequent Guides. By the late 1980’s I would bore anyone who listened with my “top three” without hesitation, but boozers change - frequently not for the better. And I think it is necessary to visit establishments a number of times before awarding gold, silver and bronze to avoid unintentional bias - and this creates obvious difficulties where hostelries are distant from one’s home base.
There is always the danger of one’s perceptions being skewed by memories of particular wonderful occasions, and pubs can be remembered too affectionately through rose-tinted beer goggles. Pubs are not just bricks and mortar etc., and truly memorable visits are a communion of different notes coming together in perfect harmony. This is perhaps why many pub listicles sub-divide the national estate into “best pub with a view”, “best pub food” and so on.
It is possible to enjoy one aspect of the offering without others being up to snuff. I remember truly superb food in a particularly hideous pub in Buckinghamshire, and a truly amazing landlord in what I, ahem, imagine a tart’s boudoir to look like - incongruously set in rural Northumberland. The Scott Arms in Dorset has many good points, including surely one of the finest views from a pub in Britain, but that does not elevate it to the medal podium (although the nearby Square and Compass at Worth Matravers has to be a contender for top-three glory). To win the laurels there has to be a concatenation of elements that produce unqualified delight. In short, there must be nothing ghastly about these places.
I am really struggling to think of my current top trio. My “spiritual home” is the famous “Welly” (The Wellington, Birmingham) but I visit infrequently these days as central Brum is so, er, ghastly and depressing. I have had a long love-affair with London pubs and some on the Suffolk Coast, but can’t think of ones that merit top gongs. The Star in Bath must be right-up there (and is Camra 2022 Pub of the Year) but I have only visited once. The Cotswolds has some gorgeous inns, though most have morphed into “gastropubs” with gastromomical prices to boot. Yorkshire - including Leeds- has been fertile territory (although I am ashamed to say that I have never visited the pub hotspot of Sheffield!) Derby has become a splendid real ale town, but doesn’t deserve top-three awards. Oh well, I suppose I’m just going to have to keep visiting alehouses until I can send up the white smoke again (and so please, dear readers, let me have your own nominations!)
But what of the 1980’s choice? Here they are:
1 The Olde Ship at Seahouses, Northumberland;
2 The Free Press, Cambridge;
3 The Falkland Arms, Great Tew, Oxfordshire.
We had two trips to - and stayed at - The Olde Ship in the 1980’s (bizarrely meeting my boss - pictured left - from Brum there on one occasion!) The small but perfectly-formed bar, awash with nautical memorabilia, was simply wonderful and the icing on the cake was Allen Glenn, an amazing, friendly, and workaholic landlord. Alas I have not been back since and so after a period of some 35+ years am unable to comment on the place now (and I note that there have seemingly been changes of ownership after the Glenn family sold up - including one towards the end of last year).
The Free Press WAS an amazing pub in the 1980’s. Whatever time of day I went in, the place was packed with locals and folk from the University with a marvellous “flow” of interesting punters (no punt intended) throughout some often lengthy sessions. Alas the place was “refurbed” and not for the better. The last time I visited the first words of greeting were: “Are you eating with us?” - five words that usually have me foaming at the mouth before I have even touched the froth of a well-served pint. I shall try it again next time I am in town, but fear that relegation will be confirmed.
The Falkland Arms is chocolate-box perfect with wisteria flowering against honeyed-stone. Until recent times the whole village was in a time warp, but the local estate which owned it sold it off and gentrification proceeded apace. My wife and I used to particularly like visiting in mid-winter - enjoying the company of locals by candle and firelight. A truly magical place.
But the dear old pub - still looking gorgeous - has been extended somewhat and a relatively recent summer visit found it crowded with loud, self-important, Oxford academic types. Expensive food has become the dominant feature of the offering - even muscling out what used to be fantastic, if pricey, ploughman’s/woman’s lunches.
A pub still worth visiting, but I fear the “top-three” status has long gone.
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